


so far away

by twohourstraffic



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Airports, Boredom, Gen, brief discussion of plane crashes, jack phones shitty because what else do i write about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-22 00:06:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7410541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twohourstraffic/pseuds/twohourstraffic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>July 3 2015. Jack waits for his flight to Madison.</p>
            </blockquote>





	so far away

**Author's Note:**

> When you’re bored and filling in time between flights, you submit Jack Zimmermann to the same. Obviously.

He knows it’s a common phobia. Something that people with anxiety are supposed to hate. But Jack has never hated flying. Has never even considered hating flying.

The Zimmermanns travelled constantly. If Jack wanted to see his grandparents or his aunt in California or any number of family friends scattered around the States, he had to get on a plane.

This means that airports have always been part of his status quo. Longer trips with his mom for her work, overnighters to watch his dad play, family vacations in Europe and Asia, before kindergarten tied him down and took away the family’s flexibility.

But it’s so much more than personal familiarity. Travel is routine. It’s simple. Arrive early at the airport, check in your bags, go through security, wait at the gate, get on the plane, get off the plane. If there’s turbulence, that’s unfortunate. If you die in a fiery explosion, that’s unfortunate. If the plane lands on the ocean and he can’t take his hand luggage and loses his camera? Unfortunate. But it won’t be his fault and, somehow, that’s reassuring.

As such, he’s never been nervous at airports.

Until now.

He hasn’t seen Bitty since graduation. They’ve been texting and talking and Skyping and it has been good – so good. But it hasn’t been anything like the real thing.

The real thing. Bitty.

Who he will be able to see in six hours. Will be able to _touch_ in six hours.

And he knows that they’re going to take it as slow or as quickly as he needs, as Bitty needs, as is possible in the circumstances, but Bitty’s one of his best friends as well as his boyfriend and Jack would just like to see him right now please.

But he got to the airport earlier than he needed – _typical_ – and now he’s stuck filling in time before his flight. And he can’t even text Bitty, who is doing last minute Fourth of July prep and has told Jack, in no uncertain terms, that he can be interrupted if it’s important but he has no time for chit chat.

Jack has lounge access with his ticket, so he could go get a free soda and a couple of subpar sandwiches made with stale bread, but somehow it’s just not that appealing. So he sits on the ground against a wall, ball cap pulled low over his forehead, and flicks through his phone.

The news cycle can only update so quickly. The books he loaded onto his Kindle app aren’t grabbing his attention. The 2014-2015 group chat won’t stop buzzing with a conversation between Holster, Chowder and Lardo about some show that was just added to Netflix, but he hasn’t seen it and the notifications are starting to get irritating.

He notices an alert on his phone app and can’t help but grin when he sees what it is. Shitty has gotten into the habit of phoning daily, keeping Jack posted on the trials and tribulations of being rich in Boston.

“Oh my _God_. Today’s update. My dad is driving me insane. You wouldn’t even believe. Currently contemplating dying but Lards won’t stop telling me I’m being dramatic. She’s usually right so I guess I should just grin and bear it for a few more days before I can finally escape this hellhole and head to Mom’s for a while. Spending tomorrow with Lardo, so … yeah. That should be good. Miss you, babe. Call me?”

Jack hits his name and waits for Shitty to pick up the phone. It rings for long enough that he wonders if he should just phone back, before –

“– d’s sake, I’ll finish the fuckin’ lawn but my phone is ringing, just give me one – Jack! Hi, bud!”

Jack can hear a fading ‘Don’t you dare take that tone with me, young man, I am your _father_ ’ in the background as Shitty runs up a flight of stairs and slams a door.

“Trouble in paradise?”

“I swear to God,” Shitty groans. “If I turn up dead in a ditch, it was him because I opened the wrong curtain. I put the crystal glasses in the dishwasher after dinner last night and they turned cloudy, and of course I wouldn’t have done that if I’d just gone to a _real_ college like my great-grandfather, God rest his soul, would have expected, letting down the family name, something something something. And obviously Lorna’s great, I love her to pieces, but she’s hardly going to tell her husband how to parent his kids. Even if she should.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Shits. That sucks.”

Shitty laughs affectionately. “You know, Jack, that’s something I love about you. If you don’t know what to say, you say nothing. It’s a seriously underappreciated skill, but one that you’ve perfected. No fuckin’ platitudes, no false sympathy.”

“Thank you?”

“It was a compliment of the highest order and you know that, babe. I love everything about you, but this is particularly excellent. Anyway, what’s the purpose of this call? Filling in time?”

Jack loves Shitty too much to lie to him, but he feels bad when he says, “Yeah, sorry. I’m just waiting at the airport. Heading to Bittle’s for the weekend, you know.

Shitty clearly gives zero fucks about the root of a phone call as long as there is one. “Oh, man. I’m so jealous! I haven’t seen Bitty for ages. Tell him hi for me, please. Eat too much pie. Oh, and send me pictures! If you get super crazy sunburn, I get first dibs on evidence. Please tell me you forgot sunblock.”

“Oh, fuck. God damn it.”

Shitty almost crows. “Of course you did. Oh my God, this is so exciting. Is your nose going to turn red? Or your ears? If you get a really obvious tank-top tan, all of my dirtiest dreams will have come true, I just need you to know that. I’ve got to text Bitty about this. Tell him to hide the sunblock. Fuck, I can’t wait.”

“I’m not getting a sunburn to fulfil some strange fantasy of yours, I hope you know that.”

“You wound me, bud. Anyway, what time are you off?”

Jack checks his watch. “We board in about twenty. I’d better go to the bathroom and stuff. Grab a newspaper.”

“Yeah, OK, _Dad._ Safe flight, bud. Call me when you’re with Bitty, I miss his face.”

“Sounds like a plan, Shits. Love you.”

Eventually, Jack boards the plane, settles into his seat, plugs in his headphones, turns on a podcast, waits. The first flight is uneventful. His stopover is uneventful. The second flight is almost unbearably long. His leg shakes and his heart races, but his nerves are overpowered by his _need_ to get to one of the few people that helps to ground him. Not long now.

Not long now.

It becomes a mantra.

When the plane finally lands in Madison, Jack climbs out of his seat and is the first person out of the door. He worries that he might be acting rudely for about thirty seconds, before he puts that aside and powerwalks towards the luggage collection point.

The ten-minute wait for his bag to come through is the longest of his life.

He pulls his duffle off the conveyor belt, slings it over his shoulder and contemplates how he’s supposed to find Bitty in this mass of people when a body slams into his from behind, arms wrapped around his waist, a forehead tucked against his spine.

He doesn’t need to look to know who it is.

The hug feels like home.

**Author's Note:**

> brb gtg fly dubai >> melbourne. catch y’all in a stupid number of hours.


End file.
